It was hot and wet. The mid-afternoon sun peeked through the canopy randomly. Mosquitoes buzzed in the air and unseen frogs croaked. The swamp was a landscape of greens and browns and the air was ripe with the smell of rot. In a clearing on the outskirts of the small town of Werstone, two people waited.

The grey-haired, aging Demy-Sefrab sighed as he paced back and forth. He rested his gnarled walking staff in the soft ground before him and leaned against its weight, glancing to Tamyra; Werstone's most respected tracker and hunter. - Was anybody even going to show up?"Do you think people will come, Tamyra?" The aged man asked the woman. The younger woman leaning against a mossy tree trunk and was idly playing with one of three copper bangles on her wrist while she waited. She did not even look up to reply, "Maybe. I heard there was some travelers in town - they could be lured by the gold."

Demy-Sefrab had put word out about the attacks, the disappearance of Tar-Sul, and the 500 gold reward. Anyone who passed through Werstone or any of it's neighboring towns would likely hear of it. The message was to meet Demy-Sefrab at this time, outside of Werstone just shy of where the land descended into the Muck. "I don't have your confidence, Tamyra. Nobody would want to slog through the muck and risk getting killed for such a small amount! If only the offerings to the Khira were not so soon, the town may have been able to spare more."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss the value of one's aid, Demy-Sefrab. Look - someone comes..." It was true; Tamyra nodded towards Werstone. Out from the wood-walled town walked somebody, making their way to where the duo stood...

When he heard of the journey to the cave in the muck, Auxzali knew he must go. Which was why he now was trudging through the small town he had found in the city of Gama-Sol. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the events of the cartographer's shop he had left back there.

Having reached te pair at the edge of the town, Auxzali bowed in greeting and said to the elder of the pair, "I do believe this is where one can join the group seeking Tar-Sul, or at least information of his.... Disappearance, noble sir and ma'am?"

"Oh, by the way," the Ouzquin Dremorix said, "Those are some nice bangles."

And he flipped his ouzala and shoved the point in the ground and waited for a reply or the person in the distance to arrive, resting his hand on his weapon.

The younger woman offered a faint bow and a cheeky smile in acknowledgement of her bangles, but said nothing - she merely regarded the outlandish man curiously.

Demy-Sefrab, however, frowned heavily - It was one of those savages from the northern deserts! They did not get many of them through The Muck. They were a strong people, it was true, but could they be trusted? "A sad day it is, where the plight of the swamp is answered by Sandwalkers and ignored by it's own. Still; what matters is that the task is done - and gold does not judge by race. I am Demy-Sefrab and you heard correctly - we wait to see if more aid arrives and then Tamyra will show you the way. What is your name, boy?"

"Another arrives, Demy-Sefrab." Tamyra interjected. Her gaze was set upon Auxzali with an unreadable expression but now they were locked on Werstone, and the latest arrival which walked towards the trio.

A fly was making rounds above the tables, its droning buzz drowned out by the susurrus of the stuffy common room of the Ratsrun Inn. The smiling foreigner felt the many eyes trained on him, but pretended not to notice. He downed another small shot, and as he had with the other, slammed it down on the table, turned the tiny tin cup half a circle and gazed expectantly at his table mate, who besides his obvious uneasiness towards this strange quiet newcomer, seemed above all else perplexed at the wrapped baby peeking out from behind the foreigner's left shoulder.

It had been a long trek, in a not so welcoming land. But he knew he was getting close now, he had to be, for his money had all but run out. Not to mention that caring for the babe was getting harder. He had been purchasing goat's, and even horse's milk, but changing its wrappings were still a trial in itself, one that needed plenty of spirits... and carefully closed nostrils.

He narrowed his eyes and reached inside his robe, something that gave pause to many a patron. He slowly took out the scroll and unrolled it for the man to see. He took a moment to formulate his thoughts, it had been a while since he last spoke common.

"I am looking for a fellow Glass Shifter. This one pictured here. His name is Auxzali. Has he stayed at this stinking hole of an establishment?"

The man's eyes darted between the scroll and the foreigner. He frowned in confusion for a second, then licked his lips. "And eh...What's it to ya?" He asked hopefully, making his intentions clear.

The foreigner reached under his seat and slammed his ouzala down on the table, its jagged teeth pointing the man's way. "It would mean a lot. You are going to help me?"

The foreigner, though still smiling, looked positively ready to pounce. The man's crooked smile melted away as he abandoned all thoughts on monetary gain. Never bully the glassman, he reflexively thought."A-alright. Take it easy there big fella...There wuz one other one of ye's... Came asking around bout Tar-Sul, he left the inn not long afore ye came in, he did... Demy-Sefrab might ave seen 'im... go ask 'im, why don'tcha."

"Where pray do I find this.. Demitzsefrabb?" The man told him what he needed, and the foreigner nodded, downed one last drink and repeated his little ritual one last time before getting up. As an afterthought he turned around and added."By the way... Do you know about any women who keep goats?"

Not long after, the foreigner stood rapping on the derelict door of an unseemly shack. This was even better than a goat he thought to himself, a miscarriage could potentially mean that the woman still produced milk, and she would most likely be happy to take care of this child, any child. He wasn't sure he would let her keep it though. For a voutzia, an outsider, to raise an Ouzquin Dremorix. Unthinkable. And he had to begrudgingly admit, that he was becoming attached to the little one. Let the beads fall as they may, he thought to himself.Just then the door opened...

The promised reward was a welcome boon and would allow Sigurd to continue his expedition longer - and the goodwill of the locals if their lost friend Tar-Sul was found.For some reason, dwellers of the night were especially fond of harassing peasants.(Sigurd was unaware of the statistical truth that if most people are peasants, a creature picking its prey at random will most often harass peasants).

Smiling, he approached the group - with the Ouzquin Dremorix there, what was one more outlander?"Well met! I hear a good man is missing, with thieves and beasts to blame? I happen to have both a sword and time on my hands."Eying the assembled, he added: "I am Sigurd, of the house of Tordensteyn" and nodded to the present dames.

He did not have to add he was of Ralkhara - him being eight inches over six feet and his hair a ruddy copper spoke for itself, as did the white-blue eagle tabard covering his armor to keep it from the sun's rays.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

To Demy-Sefrab Auxzali replied "My deepest apologies. My name is Auxzali, and I hail from the city of Bareka in, as you so correctly assumed, the desert."

After the two new arrivals arrived, Auxzali said "I do believe this is, Nim-Ty-Lin. And from the looks of our group, Tar-sul will be found quickly- we need not fear a threat. Why, look at the size of this Ralkharan! Did your god bless you with the gift of the strength of a Sila'Krysath?"

"It might have been him - or it might have been my mother's cooking. I make a habit of thanking both - one can never be mistaken in doing so."He rubbed his beard - another habit, this gained in Sen-Rab though, to catch any intrepid critter trapped in the thick growth."So, where is this Tar-Sul's abode? We would do well to search for marks of his captor and any trail he might have made."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Demy-Sefrab turned his attentions to Nim-ty-Lin as she walked up to the group - Aah, a Sen-Rabbin! That was more like it; even if she WAS a woman. She was an attractive girl - though she looked more a scholar than an adventurer. "This is the place, Nim-ty-Lin. It is good to see one from the swamp take an interest. The lack of support from the Royal Guard has been... disheartening. Auxzali," Demy-Sefrab turned his attention to the Ouzquin Dremorix, "Your aid will be welcome; your ways are not well known to me but I find myself having to take who I can get."

Tamyra let out a low whistle of interest, causing Demy-Sefrab to search for the focus of her attention; a Ralkharan knight had made his way to the group. Now that was a surprise! While the tensions between Sen-Rab and Ralkhara often fluctuated, Demy-Sefrab had no ill-will towards the folk from the eastern lands. Demy-Sefrab offhandedly wondered how steaming the armored man must be behind his gear, "Sigurd of Tordensteyn; I had not expected a Ralkharan to answer the call!" At least this man seemed a true warrior; perhaps the situation would not be so bleak, after all! "The peace-time holds firm, then; though I know of more than one Sen-Rabbin who would prefer it otherwise. Your sword will be welcome."

Tamyra answered Sigurd's query, stepping forth to unashamedly eye the bearded up and down with a smile, "Well, Knight. Once we are sure there are no more coming to aid us, I will lead you to the cave where I followed the tracks to. We will pass Tar-Sul's farm and if you like, we may pause to see if you can spot something I missed." Her tone was neutral but her eyes reflected doubt that the knight's tracking abilities surpassed her own.

Demy-Sefrab nodded, "Yes, it would not hurt to have fresh eyes search the place, Tamyra. We will wait another few minutes to see if anyone else arrives, then Tamyra can lead you out. She will tell you what she has discovered on the way."

Back in town...

Rowa-Hyn was scrubbing the floor of her abode, working up a sweat by clearing the tracked mud that her partner had brought in on his sandals when she heard the thunking of a fist on the door. Sighing, she stood and wiped the sweat from her brow before opening the front door. Her eyes widened at the sight (and smell) of the aged Desert-man standing before her. Furthermore, she gasped at the sight of the child peering out over his back, making faint gurgles and a cheeky smile. "I... er. Ah, What can I...?" She trailed off and raised her hands in a shrug. What could she say?

"Greetings. Am I correct in assuming you are... Rowwahyun? A man from the inn told me about your recent miscarriage, a thousand condolences on this your tragic loss. May I come in?"

She seemed hesitant, he settled for the one step inside, inadvertently dragging in more mud on her almost clean doorstep. He looked around the small abode and frowned with disgust. Not for the first time he was having second thoughts, but he knew he likely wouldn't find any better place in this god-forsaken swamp.

"By Axtrami's balls, this hovel isn't much to look at, inside or out!" He grinned in what he hoped would seem a disarming fashion with a full set of teeth, it didn't have the effect he was hoping for, so he decided to press on.

"Is your consort nearby? I have a suggestion beneficial for both of you, as well as for myself and this little one, should certain conditions be met. Sometimes after a miscarriage a woman could still be producing milk. Am I fortunate enough that this is being the case with you?" He glanced questioningly at her breasts.

Rowa-Hyn took an uncertain step back from the overbearing man, a flash of anger crossed her eyes as he insulted her home, which then turned to fear as the man enquired as to where her partner was and began staring at her breasts. She had heard of the Desert Folk and their forward nature but this man's questions - coupled with the fact he smelled of spirits - intimidated her. "My partner he, he is out hunting. But he'll be back any moment now mind you!" finally, on hearing the babe gurgle again things clicked into place for her. "Oh! You... You are looking for a minder for the child?" she asked hesitantly, "I watch children from time to time; a half-gold a day is what i usually ask..."

On the outskirts...

Demy-Sefrab eyed over the trio that had arrived; he truly wished that more had shown up, but three would have to do!"I think the time for waiting is over; it will be near dusk by the time you arrive at the cave. Sigurd; If this party needs direction i think it is you sWho should lead it.""What!?" Tamyra shook her head angrily, "Surely the woman..." "Tamyra!" Demy-Sefrab exclaimed warningly, "You know better than most that the Templars of Ralkhara are well versed in tactical thinking!" Demy-Sefrab Turned to the the group again, addressing Auxzali, "Glass-man; I do not know what dangers you face in the desert, but keep your weapon at the ready; there are far worse things than just bandits, lurking in the Muck."

Tamura snorted and walked over to Nim-ty-Lin, addressing her beneath her breath, "Can you believe he would put a Ralkharan in charge? It should have been you - you are Sen-Rab; it is your duty."

Demy-Sefrab clapped his hands once, smiling, "Tamyra will tell you what she found on the journey, but do you have any final questions for me before you leave?"

The foreigner frowned. He had been looking for a temporary home for the child, and after hearing about this woman's miscarriage he had felt certain she would be delighted by the prospect, but seemingly < voutzias > only cared about gold. He was disappointed to say the least, though he had been prepared to donate money for the child's wellbeing in any case.

And even though the woman had ignored his question in such a rude way, she seemed confident enough about being able to care for the babe. He reached for his pouch and rummaged around in it for a while, he made a bitter face when he saw the meager contents. He had been sure he had more money than that. Must have taken one drink too many at the Inn, he thought.

The foreigner cleared his throat and emptied his pouch for her, 1 gold piece, 7 silver and 7 copper. He held out his entire fortune and prompted her to take it, then he abruptly drew his ouzala and sliced a fine line across his left arm, he turned the arm over and squeezed his fist, dripping blood on her floor.

He ignored her protest, inhaled deeply and loudly proclaimed; "I, Zelas Ix'Ganquan, named by and sprung from the loins of Ganquan Ix'Teovahn! Carried and birthed by Chlee Ix'Otara, solemnly swear on my blood and 'Hemisa' that I will return and pay for any expenses brought on by your caring of this child born of the Ouzquin Dremorix!"

He suddenly dropped down on one knee with his head bent down. "Please care for this child until I return!" Just as suddenly, he stood up again, he reached behind his left shoulder and lifted the child by the scruff of its wrappings from its harness, and handed it to the dazed woman. He stared at her until he saw compliance, then nodded and left without a second glance.

And now to find this... Damasfrabb, Zelas thought to himself, and headed(hopefully) towards the designated clearing.

Sigurd was genuinely enlivened by Tamyra's outburst. Perhaps that was how Sen-Rabbim dealt with the heat? They shed it through their fiery temper."Tamyra" he used his best soothing basso voice. "What are our differences in the grand scheme? Here we are, humans, faced with beasts and their hidden masters, and still we find differences in birth and king and god to drive us apart?"

He was intense, and convinced, all that was missing was his fist at his chest - then he laughed.

"Once we return, I will give you satisfaction and a chance to vent your temper" - he mimicked throwing a gauntlet to the ground - "but now, please channel that fire into a vivid description of the missing man. Or, if you happen to have one of your beautiful Sen-Rabbim porcelain paintings of his, that would serve our purpose as well."

Then, he gazed at a recently ruined hovel, the jungle still hesitant before reclaiming it. "That must be his home, yes?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

"Tar-Sul rears the swamp-turkey at his abode northwest of here. He is a man of this hight," Demy-Sefrab raised his hand to around six feet, "With blue eyes. He has a scar on his left hand. Middle aged. A bit full of himself, might I add - Was running his mouth off recently about how he came into some money and was getting out of the Muck soon." With that, Demy-Sefrab waved his staff, urging them into the swamp, "Off with you now; I'll send any stragglers your direction."

Finding no support from her fellow Sen-Rabbin, Tamyra huffed and began walking off in a northwestern direction, "Come on then, you three!"

Not two minutes later, Zeloah ambled out of Werstones entrance and made his way to the elderly Demy-Sefrab who was just beginning to head back. Demy-Sefrab gave one long, appraising look to this older Desert man as he approached, frowning heavily. When he was within earshot, the man spoke, "I take it you are with the other Sand-Walker. He's but a few minutes gone; you should find the group easily if you want to catch them! Quickly now, out past those trees over there! The group can fill you in on what you've missed."

Unaware of the last member of their group behind them, the party pushed themselves through the Muck; the swamp was warm and sticky and the smell of old wood and animal waste was strong down here. There were no paths in the Muck; any that were made would quickly be swallowed and erased by the varying water level. Tamyra was an excellent guide through this land, and they rarely had to pass through more than ankle-deep water. Sigurd made his friendly jibes at Tamyra as they pushed through the difficult terrain, but the woman was less than amused, "Do not tempt me to take you up on your offer, Knight! Your people have caused me enough grief!" Tamyra glanced at Sigurd, "What is Ralkhara's obsession with the Muck lately? You're the second one in a month to come to Werstone. Usually we would see as many in a year!"

Finally, they reached a breach in the swamp - the trees thinned out to reveal a building of hardwood and poles. To the rear of the building, a covered pen had been erected however one of the pen walls was broken. The odd Swamp turkey that had not yet disappeared into the jungle bobbed around for grubs. A slow-moving stream lay on the west side of the building.

"That must be his home, yes?" Sigurd asked, receiving a nod from Tamyra. "This is Tar-Sul's shack. Let's get going then..." Tamyra paused, then turned to look to where the group had just come from. There, slogging his way towards them was another Ouzquin Dremorix male! Zelas had finally managed to catch up to them.

As Zelas reached the clearing, he was met by an elderly man, he was just about to address him when the man spoke. Zelas felt perplexed, was he expected? Another sandwalker... Could it be Auxzali? He nodded his thanks to the man and quickened his pace.

-

This wasn't exactly the kind of terrain he was used to, the mucky ground tried to devour him with almost every step, but his natural agility still managed to carry him swiftly, despite his years. He soon caught sight of the group, one of them was clad in his people's garbs, his heart started racing. When he was within earshot, he yelled in his native tongue of Quinnix.

< "Brother of the desert, hold!" >

That got their attention, they stopped and he now found himself standing face to face before his quarry. He smiled, and did the traditional greeting, bowing slightly, his fingertips touching his forehead, displaying his 'Hemisa', that showed a triangle, the symbol of the mountain.

"This is Sigurd, Nam-Ty-Lin, and Tamyra. We have joined together to find the missing Tar-Sul," said Auxzali, gesturing at his companions. "And as for my heading, I don't have much of one. I, uh, received a message, summoning me from Bareka. The Muck was along the way. And when I heard of what happened to Tar-Sul, I decided to lend my healing services."

I got a 7 for bluff. As Zelas had a few drinks, I get a +5. I believe I get another +5 because the target wants to believe (we were acquaintance/friends back in the day) it, so I get another +5.

Auxaali shifted uncomfortably. Lying was never his strong suit, as it was against Ouzquin Dremorix culture to use deception, even though everything he said was technically true.

I got a 12 on sense motives, so I didn't break your 17. I dunno if I could be classed as drunk, in fact I'd rather not be since it would impair my battle prowess, but I'll play along with your assessment.

Zelas nodded at the tale, no doubt there was more to the story, but it could wait.

"I see. Then I will accompany you."

He smiled at Auxzali and walked up to the ralkharan and addressed him in his own tongue.

< "Well met, ser Sigurd. You seem every bit the ralkharan." >

He then turned his attention to the two sen-rabbi women, and addressed them in Rabble.

< "My greetings also to you, sisters of Sen-rab. It is a sight for sore eyes to see flowers blooming even in the swamp." >

Sigurd smiled at the exchange between the sandmen, which left as much unsaid as told. But then, who was he to judge? Men were not automatons, and 'for king and country' was also only a part of his motivation."Well met, Zelas. I hope to live up to your expectations - the good ones, that is!"

Alas, the ruined hovel loomed before them, cutting pleasantries short with its ominous air."Tamyra, enlighten us what you have found so far, and what you have not."Meanwhile, he took a look himself, looking for signs of struggle, marks left by the assailants, and any hint whether more was at work than mere bandits and beasts.

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Tamyra stared blankly at Zelas, completely impassive to his compliments. "I take it you will be joining these folk? I hope they realize you're cutting into their profits; another pocket to split the reward with!"

Before the group began their search, Tamyra explained what she had already learned; "Tar-Sul's door was smashed in and the house ransacked - what few items of value he owned are gone as well as he. There's blood in the front room and signs of a struggle, but no body. I found big cat tracks around the turkey pen, and boot tracks of at least three men. I think it's bandits, and they must have trained panthers besides. We managed to follow the tracks to an overgrown cave about an hour from here... Two, with this group. Okay; everyone split up and look around; we'll regroup and discuss what else we found."

Sigurd took the Main building, searching through the two meagre rooms it possessed thoroughly, while Nim-ty-Lyn took to the pens; the few lingering swamp turkeys scurrying away from her as she studied the area. The two Ouzquin Dremorix men walked a perimeter around the area, studying the ground for tracks and other oddities while they caught up, chatting to each other.

Some time later, they reconvened with Tamyra at the edge of the clearing. She had made another scan of the area but spotted nothing new. "Well? Spot anything of interest?"

Sigurd hollered a "Ha!" from the main building, which - from a philosopher's lips - would be a more elaborate "Eureka!"Soon thereafter, he proceeded outside, holding a bottle and a pouch in one hand, and a white brush in the other.

"I have good news and bad news for all of us."He held up the bottle with the sigil of the Mar-Nutab winery, a fine strong red dessert wine. "The bandits are either teetotal, or incompetent as to have left this behind. I suggest we take it and celebrate with Tar-Sul once he is found. They also left his coin" he pointed to the pouch, "which cannot be explained by abstinence."

Then, he held up the other hand, with a brush of coarse white fur: "The bad news is, they have snow orcs - while in white, they're no gentle brides, and in this weather, they will be furious. Also, they are rather brawny and ill-tempered, even compared to your average orc. Shoot in the head from afar, I say."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"